“The basketball team is in Eugene, Oregon,” Suzanne said. “Caleb Bass has never been west of the Mississippi.”
Landon jerked his head to face Gina. “You tricked me.”
She hadn’t prepared herself for the anger in his eyes. “I wanted to show you how people can be wrong about what they think they’ve seen.”
“But what you’ve really shown me”—he stood, towering over them—“is that you’ll do anything to prove your point.”
Gina stood, too. “But don’t you see? You could have been wrong all along.”
“Yes.” He slashed his hand through the air. “I could have been wrong. Is that what you want to hear?” He took a step toward her. “Is it?”
Suzanne stood and cleared her throat. “Mr. Vista.”
He glared in Gina’s eyes for another several seconds, then took a step back. His arms hung limp at his sides. He lowered his head. “I could have been wrong.” He raised his head, his pleading eyes looked from Gina to Suzanne and back again. “I just want to be certain the right guy’s in prison.”
His entire body quivered, as if it had been a struggle to admit what he’d just said. Gina glanced at Suzanne. Her boss had seen it, too.
“Can we be done here?” He rubbed his fingertips on his forehead, covering his face.
Gina looked toward her boss. No way was she going to do anything that might sway Suzanne when Gina was more invested here than she should be.
“I’d like your permission to question you again,” Suzanne said, “should we decide there’s something more we need to ask.”
Landon nodded. His normally tanned skin looked ashen against his dark hair.
Suzanne placed her hand on his arm. “You’re doing the right thing here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m willing to tell the truth.” He picked up the picture of the basketball team and held it in front of Gina’s face. “I don’t have to trick people into it.”
CHAPTER TEN
For once, Landon was happy he had to go to a fundraising event for the senator tonight. He’d do just about anything to get his mind off of what had happened this morning at Morgan’s Ladder and the fact that he might have put the wrong guy in prison. He felt like even more of a fraud than usual, zipping around in a private plane while this horrible possibility roiled inside him.
They were headed to an evening soiree at a waterfront home in Naples—some hoity-toity campaign donor. Then they’d spend the night at a nearby hotel and fly back again tomorrow morning. A guy could have a worse job . . . even if he did hate this part of it.
At least he wasn’t digging ditches or something like that. He liked being outdoors, but the Florida sun was unrelenting for nine months of the year, and he’d seen sixty-year-old men still toiling away in the summer heat. So he’d play nice with the rich people. And get the hell out of there as soon as he could.
He settled into his seat on the plane as Scott Meredith opened the fully stocked bar. The senator had Grey Goose on the rocks every time he drank, and the rest of the staff seemed to think that drinking the stuff was a requirement of their job descriptions, too. Scott had already fixed two of them by the time he pointed toward Landon.
“I’ll grab a bottle of water in a few minutes,” Landon said. It had already been a helluva day, and having a couple of drinks before they even got to Naples would only make him more tired for the long night ahead.
When the remaining staff members had their drinks in their hands, Scott settled into the seat next to him. The senator dozed in the chair facing them, on the other side of the polished built-in coffee table.
“So how’s that family-impact project going?” Scott asked.
He was talking about the bios of crime victims Landon had been asked to put together for a series of television ads. “Pretty good. I have a couple more interviews and then I’ll be done.”
“Anything we can use?”
He shrugged. He was actually pretty proud of what he’d uncovered. For a guy who’d majored in mathematics, he’d enjoyed working with the constituents more than he’d expected. “A girl whose brother was killed by a couple of gangbangers.” His interview with her had really punched him in the gut. It would make for a good story, even if it was just thirty seconds long. “Her mom never recovered from her brother’s death, so the daughter was in and out of group homes until she turned eighteen.” He’d admired her determination to overcome the odds against her. Had even made an anonymous donation specifically for her to the program that was helping her get her first apartment as she aged out of foster care.
“She’ll let the PR firm interview her on camera?”
“She said she would.”
“She black or white?” Scott was always concerned with which demographics they were appealing to.
“Latino.” Like it mattered what color she was. People were people. They all needed help, regardless of their race. He hated how Scott and the senator were always so concerned with the next election.
“Then find me an old white guy who’s been scammed by a Ponzi scheme and we’ll have the two commercials we need.”
Landon opened his mouth to speak, but the lady in charge of logistics once they got to Naples interrupted them. “I need to ask a couple of questions about the event tonight,” she said to Scott.
Landon jumped up, eager to extract himself from the conversation. “Here. Take my seat.” He moved up behind the cockpit in a single seat where he could be left alone for the rest of the trip. It felt good to lay his head back and enjoy the privacy.
He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, but he’d been thinking about Cyrus Alexander all day. God, Gina had pissed him off this morning with that cheap-ass trick with the picture of the basketball team. And what he’d hated most of all was that she’d been right. If he couldn’t even be certain that Cyrus Alexander was on a team of fifteen guys, how the hell did he know he’d been the guy running from the country store fifteen years ago?
Landon might have put the wrong guy in jail. Could he be any more of a total fuckup?
He propped his elbow on the armrest and rubbed his eyes, hoping to block out the rest of the world, but thoughts of Gina passed through his mind like marionettes on a stage. The first night they’d met. How her body had molded to his that night she’d kissed him next to her SUV. Those damn yellow shorts she’d worn that day at breakfast. Those delicate mounds of flesh he could see as she shook the ketchup bottle in front of him. And she’d known exactly what she was doing that morning at her apartment. Knew exactly where his gaze was as she leaned over the table, which made her even hotter.
His imagination created a different ending to that morning. One in which he peeled off her T-shirt and cupped those beautiful breasts on the outside of her lacy bra. He’d rub his thumbs across her nipples until she begged for more, then he’d slip off her bra and let his tongue glide across them, teasing them.
He’d slide his hands between her legs and feel her warmth—her need—before he unzipped those little yellow shorts and let them fall to her feet. She’d slide his shirt over his head before he lifted her, naked, onto her dining room table. She’d unzip his pants and touch him . . . but he couldn’t make love to her then. Not yet.
He’d have to make sure it was as good for her as it was for him. He’d slide his hand between her legs and—oh, God—she would be so wet for him. So needful. So ready for him to plunge inside her.
He could feel her warm, wet walls as he slid inside her. Could feel himself pumping against her, in and out and in and out as she lay back on the table, wrapping her legs around him, making those sweet little noises he’d heard her make when they’d kissed . . .
Jesus, he got hard just thinking about it.
The sudden sound of laughter in the seats near the back made his eyes shoot open. He sat up straight, thankful he was up front, where no one else on the plane could s
ee the huge bulge in his pants.
He rested his head against the headrest and let his eyes drift shut again, determined not to think about it anymore. Sure, she was sexy as hell, but part of what made her that way was her intelligence. Her passion for her work. The way she challenged him. All those weapons she had aimed directly at him.
But no way was he going to fall for a woman who would trick him the way she had this morning. Sure, he might fantasize about her, but that was what guys did. They got horny sometimes. He at least had the willpower not to act on it with her.
Okay, so maybe fate had sent her to Tallahassee this summer to get Cyrus Alexander out of prison. Landon could live with that. She might have even been sent to Tallahassee to help him see what he’d done wrong so many years ago.
But that was the end of his involvement with her. She’d go back to law school in a few weeks, and he’d never have to deal with her again.
Gina sat cross-legged on her couch. She finger-combed her hair as her computer pinged to indicate an incoming call. Chatting with her roommate from undergrad would be a welcome relief, especially after this morning at Morgan’s Ladder. She hadn’t been able to forget the look of betrayal in Landon’s eyes all day.
“This is Gina,” she said as the call connected.
Erica frowned from the screen. “Stop sounding like such an attorney. Hello? It’s me. The one who knows what all your underwear looks like. The one who watched you throw up falafel all over our bathroom.”
Ugh. During what may have been the worst case of food poisoning in US history. “I haven’t eaten Greek food since then.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t pretty.”
“So what’s this big news?” Erica had texted her earlier in the day to make sure they could video-chat at a certain time right after work.
“I’m thinking of taking a semester off from grad school. Traveling through Europe. Staying in hostels. Riding the trains from country to country.”
Gina smiled at Erica’s exuberance. She’d always loved her energy. “Where are you going to get that kind of money?” Her friend’s parents weren’t wealthy. They’d struggled in low-wage jobs for years.
Erica’s face grew bigger as she leaned toward the camera on her computer. Gina could see the excitement on her face.
“We’ll stay in hostels,” Erica said. “They don’t cost much. And we’ll get a job from time to time if we need to.”
“We?”
“You’re going with me.”
Gina laughed. “Do I get a say in this?”
“We can do it next summer. You don’t do an internship. I don’t take classes. Like that gap year the Europeans do between high school and college.”
“We’ve already got our undergrad degrees.”
“So we’re slow learners. Back then we didn’t know we were supposed to do a gap year.”
“I can’t do it.”
Erica slumped back in her chair and looked stunned. “Oh, come on. Surely there are other people who don’t go through law school all at one time. Like people who get sick or have a baby or something.”
“I promised my parents I’d try to get an internship in corporate law next summer.” Of course, she really planned to return to Morgan’s Ladder, but she’d figure all that out later.
“You’d rather be some stuck-up attorney than traveling Europe with your best friend?”
“How would I tell my parents? Who are spending a fortune on my law degree, by the way.”
“ ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, I want to go have fun for a few weeks before I settle into something that’s going to be unbearably boring for the rest of my life?’ ”
Gina paused. She’d love a carefree summer with her friend. She’d love a carefree anything. But working at Morgan’s Ladder was what she needed to do. “I can’t.”
“You’re really that determined to become some corporate suit?”
Gina laughed. “You obviously haven’t seen my office. There’s nothing corporate about it.” More like run-down and underfunded.
“How is the prison job going, anyway?”
Gina laughed. “It’s not a prison job.”
“Do you go to prisons?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a prison job.”
“We’re getting a guy out tomorrow. He’s been in for twenty-one years for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Now you’re just making my summer in Europe sound frivolous.”
Gina shrugged. “Maybe you’ll find some hot guy between now and then to take to Europe with you.”
“Speaking of hot guys . . .”
Gina smiled. This was a much safer topic. “You have a boyfriend?”
Erica scoffed. “I wish.”
“So what is it?”
“I saw Christopher in Target the other day. He looked like hell.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“Scruffy whiskers. Dirty T-shirt. Wrinkled pants. Had some skanky-looking girl with him.”
“You could have stopped with the wrinkled pants.” The pain of Christopher’s betrayal stung in Gina’s chest.
“She looked pretty nasty.”
“I don’t need to hear about her.” Or her skankiness.
“I’m just saying . . . you should be glad you dumped him.”
“He dumped me.”
“Well, technically, you dumped him after . . . you know.”
Yes, Gina knew exactly what Erica was talking about. The day she’d walked in and found Christopher in bed with the goth girl. “We really don’t need to relive it.”
“So any cute guys down there?”
Gina took a deep breath while she considered whether or not to talk to Erica about Landon. She hadn’t told anyone about how she felt . . . and it might be good to talk through it. “Only one, but he’s off-limits.”
“Engaged?” Erica’s eyebrows rose. “Or married?”
Gina laughed. “Neither.”
Erica’s mouth fell open. “You picked up a gay guy?”
Gina thought about the way Landon had kissed her that first night they’d met. How his big hands had fanned out across her back, molding their bodies together. How his erection had felt pressed against her. “He’s definitely not gay.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I can’t mix business and pleasure.”
“You work with him?”
“He’s”—Gina thought carefully how to phrase her answer—“involved with one of our cases.”
“No shit?” Erica chuckled. “You’re in love with a prisoner?”
Gina laughed. “No. He’s involved in the case . . . in a different way.”
“Is he tall enough for you? Or is it Roger Burns all over again?”
Gina cringed. Her two-week relationship with Roger Burns had been a mistake for a lot of reasons. And most of them had nothing to do with his height. “He’s definitely taller than I am.”
“So it’s a summer job.” Erica gave a dismissive wave. “Have a little fun.”
“And besides, I’m pretty sure I really made him mad earlier today. I . . . kind of tricked him into realizing something he didn’t want to admit.”
“Does he want to see you again?”
Gina paused. She had no idea where things stood with Landon. And that was the worst part.
“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Erica said, finally serious.
Gina had wondered the same thing. “Hmmm. Maybe.”
“What could it hurt?”
“I don’t know.” If she couldn’t date him, then why did she feel the need to mend their relationship? Why was it the thing she’d spent most of the day thinking about?
“Should you apologize?” Erica seemed to know not to ask about the details of the case. She waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe have a little makeup sex
?”
“We’re not sleeping together.” Gina chuckled.
“Yeah, but do you want to?”
Of course she wanted to sleep with him, but this was more than lust. She wanted to spend Sunday mornings with him sipping coffee on a sunny back porch somewhere. To cook meals with him. To have him around to talk to whenever she wanted. “I could get in huge trouble for having a relationship with him. It’s against our code of ethics.”
Erica slumped against the back of her chair. “So bad idea, huh?”
Yes. Definitely a bad idea. Gina reminded herself of that every day.
“So maybe it’s a good thing you pissed him off,” Erica said.
“It doesn’t really matter what he thinks.” Gina held her friend’s gaze on the computer screen, hoping Erica wouldn’t realize she was lying to both of them. “There could never be anything between us anyway.”
Landon held back, waiting for the senator to extract himself from the first of a series of three Lincoln Town Cars that had whisked his entourage from the airport to an expansive waterfront home in Naples. This town, with its pink and tangerine-colored mansions, had been known as the place for upscale glamour and opulence on Florida’s gulf coast for years.
Finally, the senator exited the car and strode up the wide stone steps. Scott Meredith, Landon, and the rest of the group followed.
A butler opened the massive front door and bowed his head in greeting. “Senator Byers. Mr. and Mrs. Winston will be glad to know you’ve arrived safely.” He held out a hand, motioning for them to go farther down the marbled foyer. A group of people—men in sport coats and women in body-hugging dresses—were gathered in a room at the back of the house. The laughter and chatter got louder as the senator’s party approached.
The foyer opened to a towering two-story living room. A wall of windows looked out over the waterway behind the house, where another equally lavish home sat on the other side of the canal. The setting sun seemed poised on the horizon solely for their benefit. Behind each mansion, an expensive vessel hung from its lift inside a boathouse, ready for another day of fun. Landon had been in homes like this before. Had mingled with their owners. Had pimped himself on behalf of the senator.
The Truth About Love Page 11
